Fierce

Even as I held you close I pray to
Old gods that you would run.
Far, far away from the stench of our
Mangled insides, start a life anew.
But you do not fight or flee, pliant under
My unforgiving fingers. Almost as if you
Want it, pliant like this.
Painfully, pitifully, softly pliant. Freshly stung.
You are the last thing I wish to do this to,
You are the only thing I desire.
The choice battles within me as we rip
Each other raw. I do more damage than
You could ever hope to.
This is not love, but it is the only
Thing I know.
I will destroy you if you stay too long.
Run.
Far, far away.